


High On Believing

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: Puzzle Pieces [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, greg has a savior complex, greg lestrade's exwife, mycroft is a bit jealous, very vague mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 04:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9640754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Greg gets an unpleasant phone call and Mycroft's ready to go back to work.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hooked on a Feeling by Blue Swede.  
> This one's short, just a little fluffy transition piece to set up some stuff down the road. I hope you guys are liking this series, because the next one, set a week after this, will be posted on Tuesday. That's right; Valentine's Day fic. Anyway, until then, have a little fluff.  
> As usual, not Brit-picked, so let me know if there are any problems.

Greg may have exaggerated his stumble when he staggered into Mycroft’s reading room and sprawled across the sofa dramatically, dropping his head into Mycroft’s lap moments after Mycroft lifted the book he was reading to make room for him, but it was nothing compared to how exhausted he felt internally. He groaned and closed his eyes, and Mycroft’s free hand reached down to card gently through Greg’s hair soothingly. “Bad day at work?” he asked casually.

“Work was fine,” Greg responded, opening his eyes to the view of the cover of some Russian work he couldn’t hope to translate, before Mycroft closed the book and set it on the side table. He continued, “It’s the phone call from my ex that I could do without.”

Mycroft’s hand stilled in Greg’s hair, and when he resumed stroking it was a little rougher than before, betraying his calm voice when he asked, “What did she want?”

“You can’t deduce it from the creases of my shirt?” Greg teased. He wasn’t sure if this was Mycroft being jealous, but if it was, he was enjoying it a lot more than expected.

“Don’t be absurd, Gregory.”

“Sure you don’t know ‘cause you tapped my phone and record all my conversations?”

“You grossly misinterpret what I do for a living.”

Greg made a face like he was contemplating, and then said, “No, I don’t think I do.” He grinned up at his boyfriend, “Does making Anthea do it for you relax that guilty conscience?”

Mycroft dug his nails in lightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make Greg feel the scratching sensation. “What I can deduce, Gregory, is that you’re trying to distract me so I forget about your phone call with your ex-wife. How is Amelia these days?”

“Still happily sleeping her way through half the local school system,” Greg sulked. “I can’t believe I married that woman.”

“I do believe you have a type, Gregory.”

Greg frowned, “Not planning on cheating on me, are you?”

“God no,” Mycroft assured him quickly. “Even if there was someone interested in me, I find I have eyes only for you. I just meant that you find yourself uncommonly attracted to people you believe you can fix.”

“I don’t follow.”

Mycroft sighed, “If I’m not much mistaken, when you entered a relationship with Amelia she was suffering from depression which, when she managed to overcome it a few years later, gave way to her blatant disregard for your feelings and her determination to treat you like a doormat. Of course, by that point you’d already had your first daughter with her, so in your mind leaving was out of the question. Similarly, when you first actively expressed an interest in me, I was at the lowest point you’ve ever seen me.”

Greg sat up, dislodging Mycroft’s hand, “I don’t just like you because you’re hurting, Mycroft.”

“I don’t doubt that’s true,” Mycroft said, “but you can’t deny that you have a savior complex. It’s not that unusual in law enforcement, and if it’s any consolation, it doesn’t seem to apply to just your partners. You were quite determined to get Sherlock back on his feet within minutes of meeting him, as I recall, despite his rather harsh treatment of you.”

Greg stared at Mycroft, a million different responses dashing and crashing through his mind like a spectacularly catastrophic horse race, trying to determine if he was offended at the suggestion or not. As he wasn’t a genius and therefore couldn’t keep up with every train of thought, he waited several long moments until his brain quieted enough for him to pick out the most appropriate response, “Do you have any idea how creepy it is that you know me better than I know myself?”

Okay, maybe not the most appropriate response, judging by the way Mycroft’s face fell. He looked uncertain, “I’m…sorry?”

Greg sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that, love. As you keenly pointed out, I’m not exactly used to people, including my partners, taking a very personal interest in my life, and I’ve definitely never had a boyfriend who kept a file on me before.”

Mycroft’s expression morphed from uneasy to affronted, and he muttered, “I don’t have a file on you.”

Greg bopped him lightly on the head and said sternly, “No lying. I know you have one because you have files on everybody. If anything, I’m offended that I’m not special in that regard.”

“You are special in most other regards, so I hardly think it matters.”

“You smooth bastard,” Greg threw back his head and laughed. He slung his arm around Mycroft’s shoulder and draped his legs across Mycroft’s lap, leaning into him for support. His boyfriend wrapped his arm around Greg’s back to keep him balanced.

“If you think you can sweet-talk your way out of this, you are gravely mistaken,” Mycroft informed him. “You still haven’t told me why Amelia called you.”

Greg groaned and buried his head in Mycroft’s neck, “I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Whatever she’s done must have been atrocious to make you so clingy today,” Mycroft commented. “She hasn’t proposed that you get back together, has she?” Greg’s head shot up, and the astonished and horrified look that he gave Mycroft made the younger man chuckle. “I was only joking,” Mycroft assured him, although Greg could tell there was that bitterness beneath the words that indicated Mycroft didn’t entirely believe them.

Greg used his free hand to turn Mycroft’s chin and kiss him, admittedly a bit roughly but very passionately. When they broke apart, Mycroft looking a bit dazed, Greg said, “I’m not leaving you. Not for anyone, and certainly not for her.” If the dreamy, affectionate look in Mycroft’s eyes was anything to go by, he was thoroughly convinced. The moment it cleared, however, he quirked an eyebrow at Greg, who sighed, “We’ve got a lot of April birthdays in my family, so every year around that time we get together and have a little party to celebrate. Because we had the kids, and we were married for so long, Amelia still came even after the divorce, which was bloody awkward as it was, but this year she decided to phone me to see if I would be okay with her bringing a plus one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Greg pushed a hand through his hair and leaned his head against Mycroft’s shoulder. “Bad enough that she’s there at all, but now I’ve got to sit there and make small talk with a guy who my wife either cheated on me with or planned to, if I hadn’t left her first.”

“You could have just said no,” Mycroft suggested.

Greg laughed, “I don’t know how get-togethers work in the Holmes family, but I don’t have a say in guests. Amelia would have had to call my mum to find out if it was okay, and considering my family still thinks she’s a perfect angel, there’s no reason why they wouldn’t let her.”

Mycroft frowned, “Don’t they know what happened between the two of you?”

“No, and they’re not going to find out,” Greg said. “As far as my family is aware ‘it just wasn’t working anymore,’ and I’m not going to tell them how I pathetically let my wife cheat on me for years because I thought we could make it right.”

When Mycroft opened his mouth again, clearly to protest, Greg held up a hand, “You don’t tell your family plenty, so you have no room to judge me on this.”

Mycroft nodded, “Fair enough. I still don’t see why she called you. I can’t imagine it was out of curtesy.”

“It wasn’t,” Greg grumbled. “It’s like you said; she loves to make me suffer. She just wants to flaunt it in my face that she’s perfectly happy in whatever sorry excuse for a relationship she has while I’m pathetically single.” At Mycroft’s raised eyebrow, he admitted, “I haven’t told my family about you yet.”

“Ashamed of me, are you?” Again, Mycroft’s voice was teasing, but that undercurrent of belief was still there.

Greg kissed Mycroft’s temple, “We really need to work on your self-esteem, love. You’re not fooling anybody. And I’m not ashamed of you. It’s just been a very long time since I’ve dated a bloke and half my family’s going to be disappointed that I’ve ‘fallen back into that phase’ and the other half is going to be far nosier than I want to deal with just yet.”

“I understand,” Mycroft nodded. “I wouldn’t want you telling them if it made you uncomfortable.”

“Soon,” Greg promised, accompanying the words with another kiss. “But not just yet. After all,” he joked, “you may get tired of me before then.”

“Never,” Mycroft said firmly. It was a scary thought, but also a reassuring one. Greg didn’t have any plans to go anywhere anytime soon, and it was nice to know that Mycroft felt the same. Enough things were uncertain about their relationship.

“By the way,” Mycroft changed the subject, “while I’ve got your attention, I wanted to let you know that I’m returning to work tomorrow.”

Greg frowned, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Mycroft still slept terribly, having nightmares more often than not, and there had been several instances of anxiety severe enough that Mycroft had called Greg at work because he hadn’t felt safe.

Mycroft pursed his lips, “Honestly? No, I’m not sure. But I don’t think I ever will be, so it’s best to dive in head first.”

“Except sometimes, when it’s better to wade in slowly,” Greg pointed out. His fingers fidgeted with the folds in Mycroft’s sleeve, pinching them and stroking them out again, just for something to do with his hands.

“I know you’re worried about me,” Mycroft said, “but I think this is for the best. I’ve been out for over a fortnight already. I have never taken a vacation that long in the entirety of my career. I’m going crazy cooped up in this house, Gregory, and I simply can’t take another day of relaxation.”

Greg would have laughed if he hadn’t been so concerned. “What if you have a breakdown at work?” he asked.

“Anthea will be no more than twenty feet away from me at all times, I assure you. It’s her job as my assistant to look out for me, and one she has taken to and quite surpassed. And, of course, I can always call you if I’m feeling overwhelmed. Even if you can’t answer right away, knowing that does wonders for the panic.” Mycroft seemed completely set in his decision, “I’ve made up my mind, Gregory. I’m going back to work.” And when Mycroft Holmes made up his mind to do something, God help the poor bastard who decided to stand in the way.

Greg sighed and squeezed a little tighter, nuzzling into Mycroft’s neck and placing little kisses along his jawline. “I know I’m being a bit over-protective,” he admitted quietly into Mycroft’s ear. “I don’t mean to be.”

“It’s that savior complex of yours,” Mycroft said. He leaned his forehead against Greg’s, and closed his eyes. “I know it won’t be easy, but I have to have faith in myself that I can do this, and I need you to have faith in me too.”

“Always,” Greg breathed.

“Good.” Mycroft pecked his lips softly, and then carefully removed Greg’s legs from over his own and stood up. “I was thinking we could order Chinese for dinner. I find myself rather hungry, for a change.”

Greg gaped at him. Mycroft never initiated anything having to do with food, and avoided the subject altogether where possible. Maybe his boyfriend really could handle this. “That sounds fine,” Greg said, his throat tight, and Mycroft leaned down for one more gentle kiss before going to retrieve the takeaway menus from the kitchen. Greg stared after him, a mix of feelings blooming in his chest; pride and love and hope, all blended together. For just a second, one perfect second, he could pretend that everything was going to be fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you guys actually liking this series? Is there anything you desperately want me to address that I haven't mentioned yet? Let me know. Your comments are always appreciated, and thanks so much for reading.


End file.
